


Drunk and disorderly

by myrish_lace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Co-workers, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pool & Billiards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Jon Snow stumbles into a bar to get over his hopeless crush on Sansa Stark. After all, she has a boyfriend. Who happens to be in the same bar, and is a real asshole. Sansa shows up and saves the day.





	Drunk and disorderly

**Author's Note:**

> I had to y'all. :)

Jon needed to get drunk. Thoroughly, shit-faced drunk. And it was all Harry Hardyng’s fault. 

Jon opened the door to the bar with a bang. Nobody even glanced his way, which was perfect for his mood. The bar was an excellent choice too. Dark, seedy, a sticky floor and a crowd minding their own damn business. When he was in a stormy state of mind he knew how to pick right.

He poured his sad self onto a stool and flagged down the bartender.

Jon had been doing so  _well_. He’d worked up the courage five times this week to ask his lovely co-worker, Sansa Stark, out on a date. After two bloody years of pining. 

Well, almost. He’d lost his nerve at the last minute each time. But today - today he had been ready to do it. He’d actually walked over to her desk.

Only to find a ridiculously outsized vase of red roses. Big enough to hide Sansa completely. And the obnoxious tag from Harry Hardyng - what kind of last name was that? - had read “Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

Sansa Stark had a fucking boyfriend, and Jon had a huge fucking crush to get over. 

The bartender finished wiping down the counter and slung a towel over his shoulder. He slid a napkin and a bowl of nuts over to Jon. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” Jon rasped. “Neat. You know what, just bring me the bottle.”

The bartender raised his eyebrows. “What brand?”

 _You’re not getting a big sale tonight_. “Cheapest.”

The bartender sighed, but delivered. Jon slapped some cash down on the counter, asked gruffly for a glass, and got to work on the liquor. It burned down his throat and settled in his gut.

He probably wasn’t right for Sansa anyway, Jon thought after the third drink. Not good enough. Harry was a rich investment banker with a million dollar house and a big dick. He didn’t  _know_ that, but it felt true. 

“Hey there.” A blond man with watery blue eyes tapped him on the shoulder. “You play pool? My mate just passed out and I’m in the market.”

Jon swayed in his seat.  _Why the hell not_. “Yeah. Sure. Be over in a minute.” He squinted at the bottle. Half gone. It was a start. He stumbled over to the pool table. He might have shouldered a few people out of the way in the process. Might have growled once or twice.  _Sue me_. 

His opponent was liberally applying chalk to the end of his cue. He looked Jon up and down, taking in the bottle Jon was clutching. “Celebrating?”

 _Does it look like I’m celebrating, asshole?_ Jon just took a swig. He definitely didn’t want to talk about it. 

The blond man shrugged. “Suit yourself. I am. Gonna get laid tonight. Hot redhead coming by to pick me up. What’s you name?”

“Jon.”

“I’m Harry.”

Pieces of a horrible puzzle started to click into place. “Harry Hardyng?”

The man gave him a strange look. “What’s it to you?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, I am. Why the fuck are you trying to corner me?”

Jon had backed him into the wall without realizing it.”Because you’re the reason for my bad mood, mate.” 

Harry started to sweat. “Look I don’t know what you’re on about, but get gone, all right? Your breath stinks and you can forget the pool game.”

“Already done,” Jon rumbled. He was stumbling away when he heard Harry on the phone. 

“Sansa, baby, I need a ride. Come pick me up, yeah? Wait, wait, calm down, yes, I’ve had a few, doesn’t mean…look, I’m not fighting about this, just come get me, all right? And I’m expecting to get laid tonight, you hear me?” He hung up. “Least she can do after what I paid for those flowers,” he muttered.

Jon wheeled around. The _nerve_ of this jerk. Sansa Stark was a fucking gift, and no one should talk to her that way. He was going to give him a piece of his mind. Really set him straight. 

He bumped into another patron and fell into a chair instead. 

“Harry?” Sansa’s voice cut through the noise in the bar. She was dressed in her business clothes, that sexy grey suit that did it for Jon each time. She strode over to the pool table. Jon shrunk down further in his seat. He didn’t want Sansa to see him like this. 

Harry opened his arms wide. “Babe!” 

Sansa narrowed her eyes and slapped him. Hard. “That’s for standing me up at the charity event. And for assuming you were getting laid tonight. I’m not your toy. We’re through.”

“What about my ride?” Harry whined. 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You’re a grown man. Take a cab, Harry.” 

Jon hunched his shoulders. Sansa was gorgeous when she was angry and he was besotted with her and he did not want to say something stupid as she walked out of the bar. 

“Jon?” Suddenly Sansa was in front of him. “What are you doing here? Are you all right? You’re…” She bent down. “You’re really drunk, Jon. Let me take you home.”

_Keep your cool, Snow. Thank her and tell her you’re fine. You’ll…you’ll see her at the office. Yeah._

“You’re beautiful and your eyes are  _so_ blue and I think I’m in love with you,” he blurted.  _Fuck_. He ran a hand over his face. “Sansa, I’m…I’m sorry, just leave me here, forget you saw me, forget-”

Sansa tilted her head. A smile played at the corner of her lips. “Jon, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for a year. And, well, I didn’t imagine it quite like this, but I’ll take it.”

 _What?_  He leaned forward, his head swimming “B-but you can do better Sansa and Harry’s an investment banker and you deserve the world and-”

Sansa took him by the arm. “Would  _not_ have pegged you for a chatty, sappy drunk, Jon. Let’s go, okay? You can say nice things to me-”

“ _True_ things,” Jon slurred.

“All right Jon, true things, but do it tomorrow when you’re sober.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And Harry works at a mattress store, and he’s an asshole.”

Sansa helped Jon into her car. He did not vomit on the seat, and he did not embarrass himself further. He managed to thank Sansa without another confession before he stumbled into his apartment. 

All in all it was hardly the best “this is how our relationship started” story, but Sansa did adore telling it over the years, really relishing in the details. So at the end of the day Jon had a seedy bar, a bottle of whiskey, and Harry Hardyng to thank for the love of his life. 


End file.
